A Motherless Child
by ucat42
Summary: Told in part through flashbacks,  we weave  through the training Bobby gave the boys in hunting and tracking, and the sadness that a young man carries through his life when he loses his mother at the age of only four...
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N...I know I am flicking back and forth in this story, but those of you that have read my stories know that there is always a reason, and the threads I throw out will weave themselves together as we progress..._**

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><p>There was a cassette tape in the old Dodge, and when Bobby hooked up the jump leads and called out to Dean to turn the motor over, a soulful gospel voice sounded out from the tinny speakers.<p>

_"Sometimes I feel, _

_Like a motherless child, _

_A mother…_

_A motherless Child" _

Dean looked at the tape deck, his face dark.

"Balls" Bobby hissed and hurried to the driver's side of the car, slamming the 'off' switch as hard as he could.

It was too late.

The boy turned his green eyes to Bobby, tears brimming, lower lip quivering.

"Son…" Bobby started, but Dean bit his lip and jumped out of the car.

"Balls" Bobby cursed again.

"Why is Dean angry?" Sam chirped from the backseat, delighted to find a Lego set discarded there.

"He's just havin' a bad week, junior. Why dontcha bring them toys in the house. You can play in the kitchen while I get dinner ready"

Sam happily gathered up the box of plastic bricks and followed Bobby to the house.

Bobby set about making dinner, his mind off with the older Winchester boy. The school they had been in for the past month while their daddy hunted was a good one, local, Bobby could drop them off and pick them up every day, and life was fairly normal.

Well, normal for them.

It was only this week that the boys had been finding it tough.

Parents' week.

Sam had been a little off, having to write about his mom that he never knew, until the teacher realized the child was suffering and let him write a story on what he thought his mother would be if she were still alive.

That had captured Sam's vivid imagination and he worked tirelessly on his project, inventing whimsical tales and adventures of his mother and himself.

A one page essay assignment had turned into near a full length novel.

Dean, however, that was another kettle of fish.

A big, steaming, three days rotten stinking kettle of fish.

His teacher had no sympathy for the boy with no mother. She barely reprimanded the other children when they teased Dean about having no mommy, and a dad that was never around.

But the worst part was Dean having to go over in his thirteen year old mind how he had no mother, how his mother had died, and that he would never see her again.

He was a motherless child.

Every day since he'd first met the Winchesters, Bobby could feel the scars of that, the bright pain that would catch the sensitive boy when a piece of music his mother liked came on the radio, or an add that showed a woman with long blonde hair showed on the TV.

A scent of a passing woman who must've worn the same perfume.

Bobby died inside a little every time that happened.

Oh, John saw it too, without a doubt, but it was different for him.

Every time he saw the pain in his son's eyes it was another dagger through his heart and instead of pulling the child close and comforting him, he bullied and bossed him so that he wouldn't have to face the fact that his wife was gone, and that his son was shaped by the tragedy that left him a motherless child.

He was, at his heart, a four year old boy still confused and sad, longing for the touch of his mother that would never come.

Night fell and Dean still had not come in. Sam had started to fret over his brother not being around so Bobby distracted him by getting the rifles out and promising him five bucks if he cleaned them all.

Sam wasn't a stupid kid, he knew what Bobby was doing, but being a smart kid he went along with it.

Besides, you know, five bucks!

Just when Bobby felt it was time to send out the search party he heard the back door creak, and Dean's boots scuff the dampness onto the mat.

"Dinner's on the cooker" Bobby called out without looking up.

Let the boy have space. He was home safe, that was a plus, for now.

He heard Dean pull out a chair in the kitchen and pick at the food left for him, then rinse his plate and put it in the rack.

As the booted feet hit the stairs Bobby called out, still not looking up.

"We're off on a hunting trip tomorrow, whole weekend, up at the crack of dawn, so straight to bed, son"

"Night Bobby" the voice sounded so much younger than the tough kid normally did.

Bobby looked up for the first time. Dean's eyes were red and his clothes dirty. He had a cut lip and a shiner was purpling up quite nicely.

Kid had gone and gotten into a fight. Bobby could understand that.

"Night, son"

X

X

X

x

"Hey. Up an attem, soldier" Bobby slapped Dean's foot as he walked past him on the way to the bathroom. They were staying in a tiny cabin outside of the state forest where Bobby had promised the boys a four day hunting weekend.

Of course, when dad dropped them of the strict instructions were to learn how to shoot rifles. Last time that happened Dean had learned how to catch a ball.

Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, then peeled Sammy's arm from around his waist. "Wake up Sammy" he yawned, shaking his little brother gently.

Six year old Sam hadn't been sleeping well lately, and had taken to climbing in bed with his big brother.

Dean didn't mind so much.

Dad didn't like it, and Dean always had to make sure he woke up early and climbed into the other bed before dad woke up, or he'd get told off for girly-ing up his brother.

"Stop babying the boy, Dean. You'll make a sissy out of him" he'd yell.

Uncle Bobby didn't care.

In fact, if Uncle Bobby heard Sam whimper in his sleep he'd pick him up and put him in bed with Dean.

"Why we up so early, Dean?"

"Coz I'm gonna teach you how to be a hunter" Bobby smiled at them as he walked out of the bathroom, drying his face and hands on an old towel.

"Why do we have to do that?" Sammy lay back down, his arm circling his brother's waist again in an attempt to get him to snuggle back up and go to sleep.

Dean gently peeled the arm off again. "Dad says so" he sighed and climbed out of the single bed and made his way to the bathroom. Sammy gave in and followed his brother.

Bobby had the boys dressed, fed, geared up and out the door in less than half an hour, the sun just poking her fingers over the horizon, the golden rays picking up the morning dew and decorating the scrubby brush with a million diamonds.

"Well, I guess we're gonna be lucky today" Bobby told them, bending down to show them footprints in the dirt outside the cabin. "Looks like a deer came through here not more'n hour ago."

He pointed out the prints, how to read the size of the deer, the direction it was going, spinning the information into an engrossing story that had the young boys captivated, Sammy's eyes wide with wonder.

They tracked the deer for several hours, Bobby showing the boys how to track the animal, how the hidden signs pointed to exactly the way the deer had taken. They moved this way till early afternoon, stopping to let Sam have a break and a snack every hour or so, until they finally caught up to the unsuspecting wildlife in a clearing surrounded by ferns and wild flowers.

The clearing was covered in emerald green spring grass, butterflies flicking across the tops, the wild flowers scattered through and around the sea of green, framing the picturesque vision and highlighting the deer that stood there, grazing the lush pasture.

A fallen log, half covered in moss and a sheen of glistening fungi provided the perfect hide out for the three hunters, and Bobby positioned the boys behind it.

Sam didn't yet carry a rifle, but Dean did. He'd learned some time ago how to fire one, and his aim wasn't bad.

He'd yet to kill anything, though, and John had known that one day he would need to use the weapon to take the life of some creature.

Better now, with their Uncle Bobby, in a calm, instructional training hunt, than in the midst of a wild creature kill with someone's life depending on it.

Bobby showed Dean how to test the wind direction with a wet finger, then to stroke that finger over the site of the rifle, and how to line up the deer to take a clear shot.

"You don't want the thing to suffer, now. Gotta make sure the first shot is the last one, you understand?"

Dean nodded, the deer's head framed perfectly in his sites.

"Dean?" Sammy whispered. "Will it hurt the deer?"

"No, son, the shot will be quick, he won't feel anything" Bobby reassured the small boy. "Boy, calm your breathing, Dean, slow and steady, you know what to do"

Dean had a clear shot. He started to squeeze the trigger, gently, steadily, just the way Uncle Bobby had taught him.

Sammy drew an alarmed breath. Dean relaxed his finger and looked at his brother, and the little boy pointed to the deer.

Pulling his face away from the rifle site he saw what had startled his little brother so.

A fawn, eyes as big as Sammy's, nose black and shiny, ears upright and fluffy had popped his head up from where he'd been resting in the long grass.

Pulling himself to his unsteady feet, the fawn shook himself, nearly tumbling over, the movement throwing half a dozen golden butterflies into the air, they fluttered around the soft spotted coat of the baby deer, one alighting on its tail in a classic Disney pose.

"Take the shot, Dean" Bobby quietly commanded.

"NO!" screamed Sammy, leaping to his feet. "NO NO NO NO!" and he burst into tears.

Dean dropped the rifle and grabbed Sammy as the deer, startled, turned and leapt away, her fawn at foot as they disappeared into the forest.

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked, holding his brother tight as the child cried inconsolably.

Sammy pulled away. "You were going to kill its mommy, Dean. Its mommy!"

Bobby picked up the rifle and clicked the safety on.

Dean held his arms out to Sammy, normally a pose that had the tousled head boy collapsing into his embrace.

This time Sam took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You were going to kill her, Dean! He'd be alone, with no mommy….he'd never have a mommy…"

Dean let his arms drop, confused.

"And.." the boy's hitched sobs were heartbreaking. "He would have no one. No one. No mommy…."

Sammy fell to his knees, the sadness of the whole world seeming to be on his shoulders as he poured his sorrow out.

Dean leaned forward and gathered the young boy into his arms, rocking him back and forth.

"It's okay, Sammy, it's okay" he soothed. "No one is going to kill anyone's mommy, never again, okay?"

Sammy curled up into his big brothers lap, sobbing until he fell asleep.

Dean just held him tight and rocked him slowly back and forth, his own tears wetting the top of the wavy hair.

"Well, that went well" muttered Bobby sarcastically.

X

X

X

x

"Um, Dean?" Sam knocked on the bathroom door. "Look, I said I'm sorry, okay?"

No answer.

"Dude, I promise, I won't do it again!"

Dean flung the bathroom door open, his expression hard, anger clear on the seventeen year old's face.

"Dean?"

The older brother just ignored him and grabbed his clothes out of his duffle and dressed.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't know you liked her" He tried his best puppy dog eyes. "I promise, faithfully, to never, ever do it again!"

"Do what again?" John Winchester asked, leaning against the doorway of the boy's room.

"Dean liked this girl, and I kinda, well, I um…."

"He made a fool outta me" Dean growled. "Made me look like a complete idiot"

John stifled a smile.

"Now I got no chance with her at all"

John sipped the steaming coffee from the chipped mug he was holding. "Doesn't matter. We're heading out in an hour anyway" he told his boys.

They both turned to him. "Why?" they asked in unison.

John smiled again. They were doing that more and more as they got older. Mirroring each other, especially Sam, trying to emulate every move his big hero-worshipped brother made.

"I got a job. Long one. Gonna drop you boys at Bobby's"

Dean scowled. "Why aint I coming with?" he pulled his t-shirt over his head. "Sammy can wait at Bobby's while I help you on this hunt. I'm old enough, and I hunted with you before!"

"This aint my hunt. I'm helping some buddies with a job they're doing a few counties over" John answered. "Don't want you boys mixin' with the likes of these guys. Besides, you can probably do with a bit of brushing up on your tracking skills. Bobby's got a group of mates and they're all going hunting over the holiday weekend"

Sammy groaned. Nothing he hated more than hanging out with a bunch of farting, beer drinking deer hunters.

And, with his brother pissed at him, he would have no protection from their teasing.

Dean shrugged. "Fine. I'm packed. Let's go"

John turned and walked out of the bedroom.

"He's always looking for a way to dump us at Bobby's. Can't wait to be rid of us, Dean! He never wants us around"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Can it, Sammy"

"But Dean!" Sammy whined. " Bobby's taught us everything about tracking already! And it's not like we're ever gonna kill anything, he already knows that!"

"Dad's orders, Sammy. Pack your bag"

Sam screwed his face up. "Why can't we just stay here at the motel, you and me? You know you're old enough to look after me. You do it all the time!"

Dean turned to his little brother, all signs of anger gone. "It's not a bad thing, going to Bobby's. Be good for you to spend the holidays with someone other than me"

Sam frowned.

"Besides, dad only leaves me in charge if he's going for three or four weeks. If he's dropping us at Bobby's he must be going for longer."

"We'll have Christmas at Bobby's?"

Dean turned back to his bag, quiet now.

Sam knew Christmas was hard for his brother. It always reminded him that they couldn't have a real family, that he couldn't give his precious little brother a decent Christmas celebration.

And that he would never have another Christmas with his mom.

Dean didn't know Sam had figured this all out, and Sam wasn't sharing, but last time he was at Bobby's they'd had a long conversation.

All about Dean, and how, no matter how old Dean got, he would always miss his mother, especially as their mother died when Dean was only four, and his memories weren't great. Only special times were still there, like birthdays.

And Christmas.

"Yeah. Sure. Maybe you're right" Sammy packed his bag as requested, keeping his mouth closed.

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><p><strong><em>AN..next chapter soon. This will not be a very long story...I think, I guess it just depends on how it all unfolds..._**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N...well, I thought of something to say...gosh, where'd I put that thought?**_

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><p>"C'mon, Sammy, get the lead out!" yelled Dean.<p>

The gangly teenager ran to the car. "Sorry. Couldn't find my other shoe"

Dean fired up the car and pulled away from the motel.

"Is dad meeting us at Bobby's?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "Doubt it. Anyway, Bobby asked for our help. Not dads"

They drove in silence for most of the day, pulling into Bobby's as night fell, the soft drifts of snow falling like cherry blossom petals.

Sam got out of the car and turned to his brother, and smiled as the long lashes were quickly coated in snow flakes.

He grabbed his bag and threw Dean his, then they both walked to Bobby's door.

The hunter was there, waiting and gave each boy a hearty hug.

"Merry Christmas, boys"

"Yeah, Merry Christmas, Bobby" Sam smiled at him as he walked inside.

Dean just looked at Bobby.

"I said Merry Christmas, Dean"

"Yeah, thanks"

Bobby frowned at the back of the young man as he stomped the snow off his boots and walked into the kitchen, straight to the fridge where he helped himself to a beer.

"So what's the job?"

Bobby got himself a beer and handed a soda to Sam. "Remember the time we went hunting, when you were, what, ten years old?"

Dean took a swig of his beer. "We went on a lot of hunts, Bobby"

The older hunter pulled a chair out from the table and sat. "I'm talking about the time you refused to kill Bambi's mom"

Sam gave a laugh. "I remember that! God, I thought I would cry forever. You big mean boy, gonna kill the baby deer's mommy"

Dean pulled a face. He had never forgotten that day, but he had never spoken of it again.

To anyone.

"Anyway, yeah, I remember. What's that got to do with this job?"

Bobby smiled at him. "I was just thinking about the hunts we've had over the years"

"Bobby, is there really a hunt, or did you just wanna get us here for the holidays?"

"Yes, and yes" Bobby answered. "Havin' you boys here is a bonus. But there is a hunt, of sorts. Also something weird happened, and I thought, well, I thought you should know"

"Oaky, what?" Sam asked pulling a chair up next to Bobby.

"That hunt was what, ten, eleven years ago?"

"Well, I was six. I'm sixteen now" Sam nodded, grabbing a soda.

"Okay, well, this kid came knocking on my door the other day. Kid of about, I dunno, ten, twelve? He thanked me. He wanted to thank you. Said you saved his life that day, when he was only a baby"

"What?" Dean felt a cold knife in his guts, but covered it with a gulp of his beer as he leaned back on the kitchen bench, legs crossed at the ankles. "We didn't save anyone that day. We didn't hunt"

"Kid just said something you did saved his life and his mom's, and he wanted to thank you. Said he'd never forget it, and one day he'll pay you back"

"Weird" Dean sipped his beer. "Didja see who's kid he was?"

Bobby frowned. "Here's the thing. I turned to grab a coat and follow him, but he was gone. No sign of him"

"Ghost, maybe?" Sam asked.

"No EMF. And the kid said you saved his life"

"Maybe I saved it that day, just for him to die later. I dunno" he sipped his beer. "Is it really a hunt, or just a mystery?"

"Guess we'll find out. If you two stay here for a few days, see if he comes back.."

Dean sat his beer down. "I'm really starting to think you just wanted us here for the holidays, Bobby"

"So? What if I did?" Bobby frowned at him. "You want a lonely old hunter to be all by himself on Christmas morning? Eatin' canned Irish stew?"

Sam laughed. "What, you think Dean'll roast you a ham?"

"I was hoping we could go out on a hunt in the mornin', a _normal_ hunt, and bag ourselves a wild scrub turkey. Wouldn't hurt you boys to brush up on yer snow tracking skills"

"Yeah, coz following footprints in snow is so hard" Dean griped.

"Quit yer whinin'. We hunt turkey in the mornin' and we cook the damn thing for Christmas day, traditional or not"

"Fine" Dean growled.

"Fine" Bobby smiled.

"Fine " laughed Sam.

_Shit_ thought Dean.

X

X

X

X

Sam lay on the cold ground, his gun held steady, supported on a branch from the fallen tree they were hiding behind.

Dean lay beside him. His gun was also pointed at the small herd of deer that were grazing in the trees ahead of them, as they were upwind and in cover the deer had no indication their lives were in danger.

"Dean" whispered Sam.

"Sshhh"

"What're we gonna do? Those guys are gonna shoot every doe in front of us"

"Ssshhh"

"Dean?"

"Sammy, shut it. They guys'll hear you"

Sam was astounded. Surely Dean wouldn't shoot a deer just to look good in front of these guys?

Would he?

Maybe he would, maybe he was still pissed Sam had made a fool out of him in front of the girls at the soda shop and would make Sam pay by shooting these beautiful creatures.

The older hunters waved a signal to the boys, be ready.

Dean lined up a deer in his sites.

Sam did, too, but the safety was still on his gun.

Just as the bald fat guy..what was his name, Sam couldn't remember…Ollie? Dickwad? He couldn't remember…just as she lifted his hand to give the signal for them all to shoot at the same time, Dean sneezed.

It was a massive, over the top explosion that ricocheted through the forest.

As one, the deer turned and were gone in a heartbeat.

"Aw, man, what was that?"

"Geez, we coulda bagged the whole herd"

"You got a problem, boy?"

Bobby's friends were unimpressed, bitching and complaining as they came over to confront Dean.

Sam smiled to himself. Why would he ever doubt his brother? He had never, ever let him down, why would he think he would do it now?

Dean sneezed again, and rolled back onto his butt.

"Sorry guys, I think I'm….ah….ahhh choo!" Dean covered his mouth with his fist. "I think I'b cobing dowb wib subthin'"

Bobby walked up to the boys and looked down at them. "You ruined the hunt, Dean"

"Yeah, I know, I feel real bad about that" Dean sneezed again.

Bobby frowned. "Well, I better get you boys home. Don't want you breakin' out in pneumonia or nuthin'." He turned his back completely to the hunters and gave the boys a wink.

Bobby turned back to his mates. "Sorry guys, my kids look like they're gettin' sick. Next time?"

The other hunters made their goodbyes and moved off to track the deer.

"Thags Bobby" Dean sneezed again.

"Knock it off, boy, I aint an idjit'

Dean frowned at him, but then broke out in a grin, nodding.

Sam grabbed Dean in an unexpected hug, nearly bowling the older boy over.

"Thanks Dean"

"Just don't ever diss me in front a chicks again, k?"

"You got it, dude"

X

X

X

X

Dean was dragging his feet. He seemed to take little notice in his surroundings, and barley commented on Bobby's instructions on tracking something through the dense woods.

Sam, while happy enough at the start, was starting to be affected by his brother's attitude and the whole day, while planned to be a mood lightener, was rapidly going down the gurgler.

"Sam, why don't you see if you can track the next few feet?" Bobby asked the young boy.

"Really? Me?" he jumped up and down on the spot excitedly. "You think I can do it? Really?"

"Course I do, squirt. Off yah go"

Sammy bounded ahead, stopping to check the ground every couple of paces, looking for bent branches and broken twigs.

Dean trudged along, his heart not into anything much.

"Son? You okay?"

"I'm good" came the monotone reply.

"I'm thinkin' you don't look so good. Thinkin' maybe you need a week off school. Y'know, just till you get better"

Dean looked up at his Uncle Bobby, tears shining bright in his eyes, the blackened one made Bobby's heart fall. "Really?" he asked, his voice not more than a whisper.

"Yeah. Just to be safe, and all"

Dean sighed. "Thanks, Uncle Bobby"

"Not doin' you a favor, kiddo. Doin' it so you don't make the other kids sick"

Dean smiled. "Yeah. Sure. Thanks anyway"

Bobby clapped the tall boy on the shoulder. "Let's see if we can bag us some venison for dinner tonight"

Dean shook his head. "You think you could kill a deer with Sammy around?"

"Just Sammy?"

Dean allowed himself a small laugh. "Well…"

"Not too far ahead, squirt" Bobby called to the excited younger boy.

X

X

X

X

Dean poked at the fire with a long stick, leaning back on the small camp stool, the darkness wrapped around the small clearing like a black velvet blanket.

Bobby handed him a steaming mug.

"Sam, you want some coffee?"

"Naw. If I have coffee this late I can't sleep"

Bobby yawned. "Walking this far, carting the gear around? I could sleep for a month"

Dean smiled at him. "You say that but you'll be draggin' our asses outta the tent before dawn"

Bobby laughed. "Yeah. Damn quiet out here makes sleepin' in hard"

They fell quiet, enjoying the popping and crackling of the campfire, the distant sparkle of starlight providing a dreamlike backdrop to a perfect day.

Bobby felt his thoughts drift away; to passed hunts and the times he'd brought these boys out into the woods, or driven them to different forests, teaching them to track, to hide their own tracks, to shoot, to light a fire, and to have fun.

Not once could he get them to kill anything other than a fish.

But, should they have to survive out in the wilderness, thanks to him, they could.

"You hear that?" Dean whispered, dropping his camp chair legs to the ground.

"Yeah, I did" Sam inched closer, dragging his stool with him.

They sat silent, senses alive.

This time, they all heard it, and they were sure of what they heard.

Voices.

Distant, but defiantly voices.

Bobby looked at the boys.

Dean touched his vest, indicating he had a weapon.

Sam touched the back of his jeans.

Bobby picked up a massive hinting knife and started to whittle at a piece of branch.

The voices drew closer, then they fell silent.

Dean looked at his brother.

Only sixteen, but a seasoned hunter already.

He had a growth spurt and was nearly as tall as his older brother.

Dean hoped he didn't get any taller.

Sam met his gaze and gave the slightest nod of his head.

He was ready, he was aware.

Bobby made the same eye contact with Dean, and got the same slight nod.

Three large men entered the clearing, bearded faces angry, shoulders squared, looking ready for a fight.

"Help you gentlemen?" Bobby asked.

"Hunters, right?" one of the men asked. Sam and Dean just sat, not answering.

"Who wants to know?" Bobby asked.

The three men exchanged a loaded glance with each other, then glared back at the hunters.

"Your prey"

X

X

X

X

Dean held Sam's hand as they walked back to the cabin, Sam was still sniffling in a lost child, heartbroken way.

Bobby hadn't been mad, not one bit, that Dean didn't shoot the deer.

He even carried the rifles for them, so Dean could look after Sammy.

Sammy brightened as they walked on, six year old attention span getting the better of him and eventually he skipped ahead, happily, as they made their way back.

Bobby started to whistle, the tune was one Dean didn't know, but he found his sad mood lifting.

His brother was happy again, Bobby wasn't mad he didn't shoot anything, and if he didn't think about it he didn't have to remember how Sammy cried about mother's getting killed.

Dean never cried about mothers getting killed.

Not anymore.

_Man up, son_, dad had told him last time he'd seen Dean sad over his mother.

That had been years ago, and Dean _had_ manned up.

He'd never cry about his mom again.

Ever.

He started to lag behind, not intentionally, but because he was trying _not_ to think of his mother.

As he walked along he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Someone was watching him.

Someone _close_ was watching him.

He stopped, pretending to tie his boot, but used this cover to scan the bush around him.

There.

The fawn.

Beside the fawn, a woman stood, naked, creamy white skin, large eyes, and a sad smile on her face.

As Dean watched, the fawn shimmered and changed, becoming a very small boy.

Dean gasped.

They just looked at him, still, almost unbelievably beautiful, innocent, but Dean knew they were not human.

They were monsters.

The child held up has hand and the woman took it, they stood, watching this hunter-boy.

"Dean?" Bobby called. "Something wrong? You see something?"

The two people looked at Dean, faces alarmed, they stepped back a pace, staring at him, waiting to see what he would do.

"No, nothing. I thought it was another deer" Dean called back, still holding eye contact with the woman.

She gave him a smile and a nod, acknowledging his lie to cover what they were, what he had seen.

Silently they turned away, and as he watched they transformed back into deer, and made their way back into the thick scrub.

Dean ran to catch up to Bobby.

"Another deer? Bobby asked him.

"Maybe. Maybe it was just a rabbit" Dean answered, feeling unsure as to why he didn't tell Bobby what he'd seen...

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><p><em><strong>AN...as this story has the lowest read count I've ever had, I don't guess I'll get many reviews...but those of you that do read, please can I have a word or two?**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N...Well, I know the story jumps, we have a ten year time span and I don't give you a clue when you are, I let you figure it out...but I wanted you to think and ride along with this one... I hope I managed that.**_

_**See what you think...**_

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><p>Dean itched. He was sure that he had brushed up against some poison oak, or something that made his skin itch.<p>

He tried not to think of why he felt so miserable.

He barely remembered his mom, really.

He had been only four when…..well, he'd been only four.

He'd talked to other kids, over the years, about what they could remember from when they were four.

Not much, is what they all said.

He remembered more than most, probably because he clung to it so desperately.

Most of the time, he could get by. He had Sam, and his job was to protect Sam. Most of the time that was a full time job.

He had his training. Dad made sure that every day, pretty much, they trained.

He had Pastor Jim, and Caleb.

And Uncle Bobby.

He wished Uncle Bobby was his dad.

Uncle Bobby would never make them train every day, or shift from town to town, school to school, life to life.

He didn't think Uncle Bobby had every been married, but that's okay, he didn't really want another mom. Just a home. A clean bed, the same school every day for Sammy.

He sighed. Even at thirteen, he knew that was a stupid way to think. It would just make him miss, more and more, what he didn't have.

"Sshhhh" Bobby hushed Sam who had been humming the latest girly pop song.

Dean looked up and saw what Bobby was pointing at.

There were several deer ahead, quietly walking, stopping to pull some grass, then moving on.

Three or four turned and loped off, leaving only two large bucks and a smaller, juvenile male.

Bobby raised his rifle, and nodded at Dean to do the same.

The younger deer turned and loped off after the does, leaving just the males.

Bobby thumbed his site, ready to take one down.

Dean stole a glance at his little brother, who had grown still, and had turned pale.

He turned his wide soft eyes to Dean, a tear gathering in the corner.

Dean felt the tension change, and looked at Bobby.

The man's face held only shock.

He looked at the deer, and had to forcibly stop himself from crying out when both the deer changed into men.

Sam's eyes became huge, but he didn't react audibly.

Bobby just pushed the boys down, out of eyesight from the men, and moved himself back down as far as he could without losing view of the shifters.

They stayed this way for ages, Dean's thigh's cramping and burning with the strain, and Sam had started to silently cry, tears running down his face, but he made no noise.

He was only nine, but already had been well trained.

Finally Bobby touched Sam on the top of the head.

"They're gone, kiddo. Why are you crying?"

Sam's face was red. "I need to go, Uncle Bobby, I need to go _real bad_"

"Go! We should be safe, for now. Hurry up, though, I wanna git back to the house as quickly as we can"

Sammy peed like he's been hanging on for hours, Dean just sat on the fallen log, his face dark.

"Wot's eatin' you boy?"

Dean looked up at Uncle Bobby, but didn't speak.

"If yer wonderin' why I dint shoot those suckers, it's coz I aint carrying silver bullets, and I aint gonna start huntin' with the squirt with us."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. That's what I was wondering"

Not_, I knew there were deer-shifters here, I saw them three years ago, _wasn't thinking that at all.

They walked as quickly as they could back to Bobby's.

"What are you gonna do, Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked him.

"Have to get a few hunters up here to clean out those woods. If there's two, there'll be more. Probably the whole herd we saw"

Dean nodded, but his stomach felt cold. He remembered the little boy he saw three years ago, holding his mom's hand.

That little boy was probably the juvenile male they saw today.

"Why would you hunt them?" he asked quietly.

Bobby looked confused. "They're monsters, boy. That's why"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I get that. But have they hurt anyone? Have they done anything wrong?"

Bobby seemed thoughtful for a while. Then he tousled Dean's hair.

"You're right, of course. Maybe we just leave them be"

Dean smiled. That was all he needed to hear. He ran ahead with Sam, and playfully pushed and shoved as they walked, feeling much better than he had in days.

Bobby just frowned as he watched the boys frolic the whole way home.

X

X

X

X

"Well, what if we do a little fishing? That okay with you two vegan PETA girly boys?" Bobby frowned at them.

Sam grinned at Bobby. "Dean likes fishing, you know"

Bobby raised his brows. "Really? Then fishing it is. We'll stop by the lake near my house and set up camp there, just the three of us. Coupla days fishing sounds like what the doctor ordered to clear up that cold of yours, Dean.

Dean grinned. Turning out to be a much better weekend than hunting with four of Bobby's douche bag hunting mates.

These guys were _real_ hunters, _demon _hunters, but they like to take some down time every now and then and kill any poor creature that moved.

Dean hated them.

They pulled into a nice spot near the lake as dusk caressed the horizon and pitched their tents, Sam expertly lit a camp fire while Bobby and Dean grabbed their rods and made about catching dinner.

Hour and a half and four good sized fish later, Bobby looked at the boys as they sat, faces in darkness, firelight behind them, Sam chatting on endlessly about any subject that popped into that complicated little old man head of his, Dean listening, mostly, encouraging, asking questions, occasionally teasing his baby brother.

Bobby felt his heart grow warm. These boys meant the world to him.

John loved them, he knew, but he didn't realize what a lucky bastard he really was.

Dean was growing up to be quite a stunner, girls everywhere had better watch out…as well as the most awesome hunter.

And Sam, that funny, wise, silly boy, was just a delight to have around, his thirsty, inquiring mind constantly pushing him to ask, learn, test and strain every situation.

Bobby loved them.

With all his heart, he loved these boys, and didn't think there was anything on this earth, his wife excluded, that he'd ever loved more.

They ate their catch, still laughing and having a great time, until Sam's yawns decided bed time.

"Uncle Bobby?" Sam yawned as he climbed into his tent.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Thanks for the best day. For not killing the deers"

"You're welcome, boy. Now both of yah get some sleep. Up at dawn!"

X

X

X

X

Dean got up to go to the bathroom. Too much Dr Pepper before bedtime again.

He heard Uncle Bobby talking to someone.

He crept to the stairs to listen. Maybe it was his dad, back early?

It wasn't his dad.

"Just, take care of them. There musta been, I dunno, seven? Eight?"

"Why caint you come with, Singer? Not like you to chicken outta a job"

Dean heard Bobby sigh. "I got John Winchester's boys here. Don't think he'd be too keen on me dragging them around trying to kill off a herd a shifters"

"I hear yah. I'd rather hunt a dozen zombies than get on the bad side a that guy"

Dean heard glasses clink.

"Just ring me when it'd done. And Pete"

"What?"

"I don't' want these boys findin' out"

"Fine"

"Pete!"

"I got it, Singer, you don't need to tell me again."

Dean heard enough. He crept back up the stairs.

What could he do? He had no way to find the deer-boy, or even to know if he was in this forest. Last time Dean had seen him had been at the cabin.

That was what, sixty, seventy miles from here?

Dean felt desperate. That little boy. Those hunters were gonna kill that little boy.

And his mom.

That made up his mind.

He got dressed, very quietly, and made sure Sam was tucked in and sleeping before he climbed out of the bedroom window, expertly clinging to the down pipe as he made it to the ground.

It was not too dark out, the full moon lighting his way quite well.

He didn't know where to look, or how far to walk, just that he had to get into the woods, and find the deer.

And hope it was the right one.

He didn't want to go talking to a deer that was a_ real _deer.

That wasn't gonna help anything.

X

X

X

x

Dean groaned quietly. He loved that Bobby let him drink beer with him, but now, he needed a whiz so bad, but he didn't want to leave the tent.

Sam, the big girl, was curled half outta his sleeping bag, his arm wrapped around Dean's waist in a flashback to his years sleeping in the same bed as his big brother.

Dean lifted the arm and Sam raised his head sleepily. "What?" he murmured.

"Just going for a leak. Go back to sleep"

He stumbled out of the tent, the firelight still lighting his way as he made it to the closest tree.

When he finished he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was a tall boy, a young man, shoulders broad, sandy hair, tousled from sleep shining in the moonlight.

And something, or someone, was watching him.

He heard the smallest step, a footfall on a dry leaf or small twig.

Trained well, he had a gun in the back of his waistband, grabbed as he exited the tent.

He grabbed it, safety off, and held it two handed in front of him.

"Who's there?" he growled, sounding older that he was, and very dangerous.

Movement to his left made his swing, gun ready, and then he let out a held breath.

A boy.

A small, naked boy, no more than four or five years old.

Just behind him, holding his hand, was his mother.

They looked at Dean. They looked worried.

He looked down, at the gun he was holding, and tucked it back into his waist band.

They smiled at him.

The woman stepped forward.

She was beautiful. Her skin was creamy white, and her chestnut hair hung to below her waist.

Her lips were full, red, and pouted.

Her eyes were large, dark gypsy brown, with the longest lashes he'd ever seen framing them.

"You saved us again" she whispered.

Dean frowned. He wasn't sure that he'd saved the shifters when he'd sneezed today.

Didn't matter.

He just didn't want Sammy seeing the deer get shot.

"Didn't save you. We had real bullets, not silver. You woulda survived"

She tipped her head to one side. "You think that they would have just let us go, once they saw who we really were?"

Dean gave a small duck of his head. "No, I guess not.' He leaned against the tree and looked down at the small child.

"How do you live like this?"

She smiled a him. "This is what we are. We hurt no one. We keep to ourselves, although it is getting harder. My husband…. He was hunted. Killed."

Dean looked alarmed. "That last time? When the hunters..?"

She shook her head. "No, before that. Before my son was born"

He nodded and gave her a smile back. "You know that I'm a hunter, right?"

She flicked an eye brow up. "You have never hunted me, or my kind. That is all I know"

The little boy stepped closer. He looked up at Dean, his big brown eyes round with wonder.

"This is the closest he has ever been to a human"

Dean gave him a grin. "This is the closest I've ever been to a deer-shifter thingy"

He pulled one of the leather straps that decorated his wrist and handed it to the boy.

The boy just looked at it.

"Go on. Take it. It's for you."

The boy grabbed it and turned and ran, his change into a deer smooth as one footstep to a hoof beat.

The woman came closer and kissed Dean gently on the cheek, then she, too, turned, changing into her animal form and running, leaping after her son.

Dean stood for a long time.

His father would not have understood. Probably, neither would Bobby.

Hell, he didn't know if he did himself.

Just the innocence on that child's face….

He crawled back into the tent, Sam was still snoring softly into his make shift jacket-pillow.

Dean kicked off his boots and lay on top of his sleeping bag, wondering if he'd ever get to sleep. Sam grunted and turned over, his sleeping bag around his waist, and threw his arm over his brother, spooning up behind him.

Dean smiled to himself and just lay there listening to Sam breathe, feeling his chest move against his back.

Before long the soft sounds lulled Dean into a restful, dreamless sleep.

X

X

X

X

Bobby threw the large knife and it hits the first man in the eye, knocking him backwards.

Sam kicked his small camp stool back and shot the middle man repeatedly in the chest, the bullets pushing him backwards but not stopping him.

Dean grabbed his knife from his boot, it was triple coated with pure silver and he rushed towards the third man, easily ducking the outstretched hand that tried to hit him and twisted, grabbing the larger man and flung him around, pulling him up back to chest, his arm encircling the man's neck, the silver knife to his throat

Dean let the silver nick the man just a little, and the sizzle of flesh confirmed his suspicions.

"Shifters!" he yelled, and Bobby fell back, reaching for the weapons bag that was always at the ready.

"Fall back or I kill him!" Dean yelled, and the man Sammy was shooting stopped advancing.

The one Bobby had thrown the knife at sat up, the huge knife hanging out of his eye. He pulled it out, blood spurting as he did, and stood, knife in hand, ready to attack.

"Let him go or I kill the boy" he sounded menacing, and very sure of what he was threatening.

Bobby grabbed the bag and the man threw the knife, it hit Bobby's arm and sent him backwards.

Before anyone could react the third man had leapt forward and grabbed Sam, one hand in the teen's hair, the other at his throat.

Everyone froze.

"I can snap his neck before anyone moves" the attacker growled, Sam's eyes were bulging and he gasped at his air supply failing.

Dean pressed the knife harder into his captive's throat, and the man screamed.

This made Sam's attacker rip the boy's head back harder and Sam cried out.

"Don't you hurt him!" Dean's voice betrayed his one weakness.

His family.

"Oh, we gonna hurt all of you. You decide in what order, boy" the man with the ruined eye growled. "Hunters. Think you can come into our forest and pick us off, one by one. Well, we've had enough, and it's all gonna end here with you three"

X

X

X

X

Dean was getting very tired and his thirteen year old legs were killing him. If he couldn't find any deer soon he'd have to turn back, he needed to get back before dawn. He was using every skill Bobby had taught him over the years, tracking the deer for miles.

Then he heard it. The soft rustle of the shrubs as they moved against fur hide.

The almost muffled snap of a twig as a gentle hoof touched soil.

He crept forward, his breath under control, his steps carful.

He was already a consummate hunter, every move Bobby had shown him was ingrained into his very sinew.

There, at the base of the tallest tree he'd ever seen, a doe stood, grooming her nearly grown fawn who was laying at her feet.

Dean stood and the doe jumped, startled. The fawn leapt to his feet, ready to run.

"Hey, it's me, do you remember? Do you remember me?" he asked, his hands held out, palms up, his voice soft and non threatening.

The deer just stood there, looking at him, ears and tails twitching nervously.

"Look, I could just be talking to deer, here, but I need to tell you guys something really important"

The deer stepped back a little, ready to run.

"Please, if you're the deer-shifter people. You gotta listen to me. They're coming. Hunters."

The deer continued to step back, but didn't take their eyes off him.

"Real hunters. Not the type that shoot animals. The type that kill monsters. They'll kill you. They'll keep hunting you till everyone is dead'

The deer moved further back. "You can't tell everyone. If they don't find you, they won't stop. Just you two. You gotta go. You gotta go now. They'll be here at dawn"

The deer turned and flew off into the forest, leaving Dean wondering if he'd just laid this dilemma on actual wildlife.

There was nothing more he could do. Dawn was fast approaching, the taste of the air had changed and he could hear birds start to move, already sensing the rising sun.

He hurried back to Bobby's at breakneck speed, and shimmied up the drain pipe unnoticed.

He couldn't sleep for the adrenaline running through him, he felt like his senses were on fire.

There would be no way to tell if he'd been successful.

At least he had tried.

X

X

X

X

Bobby was holding his bleeding arm, and he rocked back a little on his haunches. "Let the boys go. They've never hurt any of you. Ever"

"Gah!" Sam gasped as his head was pulled back even further.

A shot rang out and the man holding Sam dropped, a bullet hole in his forehead.

The man with the ruined eye turned and his head snapped back as the crack of a bullet rang out, a chunk of the back of his skull flying free.

Dean stabbed the man he was holding through the heart and let him drop.

He turned to see who had been shooting, and there, still holding the smoking gun, was the woman deer-shifter.

Her son stood beside her, his young face grim.

Bobby stood, still holding his arm, and Dean bent to help his brother up.

"You okay?" he asked checking the already purpling bruise at his neck.

Sam nodded, but Dean had him tight by the shoulders. "You sure? You're okay?"

"Yeah" Sam gasped, not taking his eyes from the naked woman holding the gun.

Bobby moved sideways to his boys.

"That's the boy" Bobby spoke low, not taking his eyes off the pair. "The one that came to my house to thank us"

Dean turned and dropped his silver knife, then walked up to the woman and her son.

"Dean!" gasped Sam, his throat raw and his voice gravelly.

Dean just waved a hand from behind his back to indicate he was to be quiet.

Bobby stood shoulder to shoulder with Sam and watched to see what would unfold.

The young hunter walked up to the woman and her son, his face unreadable.

The woman handed him the gun. "This is yours" she spoke quietly, Dean had forgotten how smooth and velvety her voice was.

"My son took it from your bag earlier, no one saw"

The long lashes blinked, and she looked passed him to the hunters, then back at him.

"You saved us" Dean said.

She gave him a self conscious smile. "They were here to kill you. They had been planning this for many years"

"You didn't have to save us" Dean said. "But I am grateful you did. Thank you. Thank you for saving my brother and my uncle, as well"

She nodded. "You have saved us more than once, hunter. You have warned us at great risk to yourself. We would do more, if we could. We are alive, only because of you"

Dean nodded. She leaned forward, her scent wild, woods smells of grass and dirt.

She kissed him, this time on the lips, her mouth was soft and inviting and Dean breathed deep her fresh animal musk.

She pulled away and the boy tugged at his arm. Dean noticed the leather strap still tied around his wrist.

"Thank you, mister."

"What's your name?" Dean asked him.

The woman placed her hand on the boy's arm, drawing him back. "We have no human names. We must go. If we are missed….."

Dean nodded. "I understand. So what now? What happens to you two now?"

She smiled her sad, lost smile at him. "We shall go, very, very far away, where men rarely go. We have been lucky too many times, we cannot afford to push that luck any further"

The turned, shimmering back into their animal shapes, and ran off into the forest. Dean watched them go, a sadness washing over him.

"Ah, Dean?" Bobby called to him and he turned.

"You wanna tell us what just went down here?"

Dean frowned. "Not really. Let me see that arm, then we'll get rid f these bodies. I'm thinking camping's over for this weekend"

X

X

X

X

Dean pushed his eggs around his plate, his appetite middling at best.

"You all right, boy?" Bobby asked him.

Dean just looked at his brother, then back to Bobby.

"Sammy, go brush yer teeth" Bobby ordered, and Sam skipped up the stair, oblivious to anything going down.

After the boy had thumped up the stairs, Dean made eye contact with Bobby. "You sent hunters after the shifters, didn't you?"

Bobby pulled out a chair and sat.

"You know why, boy, don't you?"

Dean nodded, barley able to contain his tears.

"How many? How many did they kill?"

Bobby scrubbed a hand through his beard. "Eight big bucks. They got them all"

"There were only males?"

"Well, they shot one doe, but that's all she was, a doe. Not a shifter. My buddies think the male breed with humans, or deer, there's no female deer-shifters."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's what I thought" he said, and started to fork his eggs into his mouth.

He was feeling a lot better.

Bobby frowned, confused as to why the child was acting like this, till he remembered the doe and her fawn. Kid musta been worried the hunters killed her.

X

X

X

X

x

They burned and buried the bodies, packed the car and made sure all signs of a camp were erased.

"You wanna tell us what went on there now, Dean?" Bobby asked, and Dean got the distinct feeling this was more of an order than a request.

"That was the boy, the one that went to Bobby's hose, wasn't it, Dean?" Sam asked him.

Dean nodded. He leaned against the car and told them the whole story, starting when he was ten, of every time they had run into the deer-shifter mom and boy, how he'd warned them, and how he had made sure they were safe.

Neither Bobby nor Sam spoke, they just let him talk.

Dawn had started to send soft fingers of light over the horizon as he finished his story. He didn't look at his brother or Bobby, he felt like he could cry, and he didn't know why.

Sam sniffed and wiped a tear from his cheek.

"I remember thinking you were gonna kill that deer's mom. I didn't know you were gonna kill a little boy's mommy" he whispered.

"Yeah, well, it's all over now. Let's go."

He turned and hopped into the passenger side of the pickup, Bobby and Sam got in, not speaking, both confused and conflicted.

Bobby turned the key as Hootie and the Blowfish sang out on the radio.

_"Sometimes I feel.._

_Like a motherless child…_

_Like a mother…_

_A motherless child…._

_A long…_

_A long way from home…."_

"Balls" muttered Bobby, snapping off the radio.

He stole a glance at Dean, the perfect profile highlighted by the rising sun shining through his window.

The gentle rays of gold also picked up and traced the path of a single tear as it ran its course down the softly stubbled cheek.

Bobby drove out of the camping area, his own throat too tight to speak.

Of course Dean could never have killed anyone's mommy.

Not now, maybe not ever.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN...Okay, I know Dean kills mommy monsters later when he's all grown up...but they didn't know that then, did they?**_

_**Not too much angst, I had planned on more, but that would have been a lot longer story. And I didn't want to wallow on Dean's broken heart. We all know it's there, he wears it on his sleeeve...**_

_**Please, leave a review, and have a little look at my other stories... I'm about to star posting a multi chpapter, much longer than this..**_


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